


When the Stars Caught Fire

by starvessel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Battlefield, Bisexuality, Blood and Injury, Canon Compliant, Fear, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Near Death, Original Character(s), Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Soulmates, Wartime, World War II, celestial AUs don't have a tag?? the stars are offended, peggy is mentioned in this but she doesn't actually make an appearance, the canon world war ii fic i personally needed so i wrote it, this is what happens when you're a hopeless romantic and obsessed with space/the stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 02:27:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15038639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starvessel/pseuds/starvessel
Summary: “I think the mysterious pull that draws you to another person is identical to the one that moves our eyes upward to the stars.”― Lang Leav, The Universe of Us•••He is tied to the stars.They love him.He hates them.His heart just beats for one.





	When the Stars Caught Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I researched quite a lot for this because the MCU really messed with the WWII timeline and also I had to research how ranking in the war worked, how regiments worked, how medical aid worked, where the front was during the time I wanted this story to be set (September 1944) and honestly there’s a lot to get wrong so apologies for any inaccuracy in terms of historical facts. I’m not even American haha this didn’t come that easy to me I have to admit. ALSO I’m in the middle of preparing for my exams I don’t know why this came to exist.  
> Btw there’s one or two Band of Brothers quotes in here because that show really inspired me.  
> Oh and side note: I tried to include the fact that the knowledge about sexuality was very limited back then, so that’s why neither Steve nor Bucky know that bisexuality is a thing.  
> This is a fairly realistic depiction of World War II because the one we got in the movie wasn't satisfactory to me at all.

**Starless Night**

_“We need to learn to set our course by the stars, not by the lights of every passing ship.”  
– Omar Bradley_

Everyone loves the night sky. It’s beautiful. Glistering shining dots. Romantic, that’s what they are. Or at least, that’s what people say.  
He disagrees. He never saw the stars, back in Brooklyn. Grew up fine, without ever having seen a single star in his life. Until he got shipped off.  
“Look for the Pole Star, Private!”  
“We have to head north! What’s the stars say? Are we going the right way?”  
He started hating them, but not because he considered them ugly. Not really.  
“Aren’t they just magical? What do you think, Barnes?”  
“No. They aren’t,” he would say.  
“What’s wrong with you?”  
“They remind me of war.”

Bucky has his own star. It’s not a real star, not one you would consider a celestial star, at least. He is his compass, in the way his fellow soldiers look at the sky to find their way. Steve is his Pole Star. The light leading him where he is supposed to go.  
War is terrifying. Violent. Destruction of the mind. They all have something to keep them going and for Bucky it’s Steve. He knows it’s not the same for Steve – he is brave and strong, a small person but blessed with a heart of gold and he can carry many burdens without breaking under their weight. Well, he isn’t small anymore, now. He knows what he wants and where he is supposed to go, even without Bucky’s help.  
But Bucky isn’t like that, he is messy and reckless and disoriented, most of the time.

 

When his vision swims before his eyes he tries to focus, pinches his eyes. There is Steve. He’s … talking? Stars can’t talk, can they now. No, he got that wrong, Steve isn’t a star, he’s a person … right? Something feels off. His brain is fuzzy.  
“Buck-“  
Bucky is tired. More than that. He’s exhausted.  
“Bucky-“  
He’s hurting.  
“Bucky, stay with me! Medic! Medic!”  
He’s scared.

 

•••  
**The Stars Revive**

 _“Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them.”_  
_― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations_

Bright. Bright? Where is he? There’s light by his side. He tries opening his eyes, then closes them again upon feeling his entire body in pain and groans in discomfort.  
“Buck!” Steve’s voice is strangely loud, maybe he’s close to his ear or he just spoke really loudly, but either way, Bucky’s ears are ringing.  
“Don’t be so loud, Stevie,” he mumbles, because he feels sluggish and tired. He thinks they drugged him good, thankfully.  
“Oh thank God you’re alive! They weren’t sure you were gonna make it.” Steve’s voice is breaking and it almost makes Bucky smile to hear him so worried about him, although he realises it’s a selfish feeling. To be delighted by someone else’s worry.  
He briefly tries to look around, his gaze heavy and slow. It looks like he’s in an Aid Station, which means they got him away from the front line. Was he that badly hurt? There is a warm hand on his arm. Steve’s hand. He’s too drugged up to care about decencies, so he isn’t ashamed to admit to himself that it feels nice.  
“Don’t worry, Steve. I’m back, ain’t I?” he says, before he falls into unconsciousness.

 

•••  
**The Stars Heal**

 _“Perhaps my life is nothing but an image of this kind; perhaps I am doomed to retrace my steps under the illusion that I am exploring, doomed to try and learn what I simply should recognize, learning a mere fraction of what I have forgotten.”_  
_― André Breton_

He’s sleeping a lot. They tell him he got shot in the chest twice. The medic took out the bullets on the field and a nearby truck carried him to safety, but he had lost a lot of blood. Too much blood, they say. Bucky doesn’t know how to comment on that, he has no idea why he’s alive, either.  
Steve visits him often, even though Bucky isn’t sure how they allow him to leave the front line so often. But Steve is a Captain so he probably has enough authority to order somebody to bring him to the Aid Station once in a while.  
When Steve visits he looks haunted and not like himself at all and it worries Bucky, because he knows Steve and even though Bucky tries to reassure him that they’re treating him well here and that he’s healing fast (because he is), it’s not enough for Steve.  
Meanwhile, Bucky himself feels like he’s having an out of body-experience, like he shouldn’t even be here. He basically already died there. A medic tells him after about 8 days of healing to go out to watch the night sky, because “you’ll feel better if you see something other than the ceiling of this place”.  
If just to satisfy the medic, he gets out to stare at the sky. It’s pitch dark and he can’t see a single one of the damn stars. Fuck them, the thinks. They have no use to him, except to upset him.  
Outside here, instead of a ‘great view of the stars’ he hears constant gunshots and sees a city in the far distance being set on fire.

 

•••  
**The Stars Watch**

 _“Trust your heart if the seas catch fire, live by love though the stars walk backward.”_  
_― E.E. Cummings_

He’s finally back at the front. Not that he missed the front, but it didn’t sit well with him to know that Steve was running around fighting for survival instead of him. Role-reversal; and it sort of terrified him real bad.  
They’re sitting around a small campfire, most people having fallen asleep, but Steve is still up. The rest of the company mostly leave them alone when it gets dark. To get the soldiers organised during the night Steve will walk around to position people, to tell certain soldiers to be on watch, but if there’s no further urgent thing to talk about they will leave him alone.  
The Howling Commandos are the only ones closer to Steve than the rest of their company and it makes Bucky feel somewhat good about himself. Even as Captain America he cares the most about his small group of friends, that hasn’t changed.  
After having been off the front for a while, Bucky is so damn glad to finally be able to join them again. His bullet wound has healed up very quickly, to the surprise of all the medics and nurses, too. Now that he’s returned to Steve, maybe this is a good chance to talk to him, because he really still feels quite bad about having seen Steve so worried.  
“Steve?”  
His blonde hair glows in the fire like a halo. His brows are drawn in thought, his eyes shining with the dancing flames.  
“What is it, Buck?” Steve answers, his voice low and collected. His Captain voice. He doesn’t look up from the fire he’s staring into, and it annoys Bucky immensely to not have his sincere attention.  
“Hey. Look at me.”  
At that, Steve’s eyes leave the fire to settle on him. For a moment Bucky’s heart rate picks up, if just for the fact that he thinks Steve can feel his nerves whenever he looks at Bucky, even though he probably can’t.  
“You should stop being such a worrier. I’ve had much worse. Remember how we didn’t have anything to eat for eight days straight back in Brooklyn once and I fainted?”  
“You got shot at. Twice. You almost died.” Still, such a collected voice.  
“It’s a war, Steve. People get shot-“  
“Stop.” There’s now rage in his eyes, and Bucky recognises it as paired with fear. He’s immediately sorry he said what he did - it was tactless and uncalled for.  
“You almost died, Buck! I- I almost lost you! Stop acting like it’s nothing.” His voice is now booming and loud. The flames crack, and Bucky is sure that whoever is still awake, or has woken up by Steve raising his voice, will simply act like they’re out cold, if they’re smart.  
If it had been Steve dying, instead of him, Bucky assumes he would have acted the same. Suddenly, he understands.  
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m still here, Steve. I didn’t leave.” He pats his friend on the back, leaves his hand there in an effort to comfort. Steve hangs his head and starts to cry in silence. It’s a heart-breaking sight.

 

•••  
**The Stars Gamble**

 _“Believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.”_  
_\- Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet_

Steve got them moving again and they are now nearing Lunéville. It’s dawning after a long day of walking, and the fatigue is wearing them all down, so it’s quiet. Bucky looks down at his feet while they move. Steve is towering before him, with Bucky trailing closely behind. Howling Commandos is up front, with the rest of the company following their steps.  
The monotone noise of wet shoes dragging across the ground is making his thoughts drift. Once again, he thinks about the fact that his bullet wound has completely closed and that he’s mostly healthy again, which is insane, considering it’s not even been two weeks since he was shot. He had no idea a body could heal that fast, it’s like a miracle. Almost like some superior being _wanted_ him to live. Not that he believes in God much anymore, but well. _Something_ wanted him to not bite the grass, yet. He’s also trying very hard to not let show how much his balance is still affected by how much energy his body has used to heal the wound. Steve knows anyway, he thinks, but he hasn’t addressed it.  
“Hey Cap, there’s … something. Somebody lying on the floor.” Falsworth mutters suddenly and they all halt, Steve giving a quick hand sign for the company to stop.  
It’s not completely dark yet, but here in the forest the last rays of the sun only lick the top of the tree leaves, so it’s a bit difficult to see details on the body lying on the ground.  
This is weird. No opposing troupes should be walking around in this area. It can’t be one of their own, either. Still, he’s wearing American clothing, so he clearly is one of them. Unless he stole them from a dead soldier. On another note, he doesn’t look dead either, or at least there’s no blood, so no gun wound. Maybe he just blacked out from exhaustion. But why would a single American soldier be left alone to die? Why would they just leave him?  
“Watch out. It might be a trap. Formation 4.” They follow Steve’s commando and Bucky takes position next to him, carefully raising his rifle.  
“Answer, soldier! Which side are you on?” Morita’s voice is loud in the almost peaceful silence of the forest.  
The body on the floor doesn’t answer. Doesn’t move, in fact.  
“I don’t think he’s alive,” Bucky whispers and Steve gets out of formation to walk up to the body, slowly. Reckless idiot. If this is a trap they’re all fucked. Steve never walks into traps, though.  
“Hey.” Steve kneels on the dried leaves in front of the body and touches the left shoulder. The soldier is laying on his front, his face to the right side, but unrecognisable due to dirt and grime.  
“He’s Airborne,” Steve informs his friends, then addresses the soldier again.  
“If you can hear me, talk to me. Sprechen Sie Englisch?”  
No answer. Steve carefully lowers his hand to feel for a pulse on his neck.  
“He’s alive. Help me switch him to his back. He might be dehydrated.” Dugan, who’s up front in the still standing formation, walks up to him and kneels on the ground as well. Together they heave him onto his back. His face is bruised and bleeding, like somebody punched him and then left him here, after him having fainted from the multiple hits he has taken to his face. He might have been hit elsewhere, too, the way he looks.  
“Jesus Christ”, Bucky murmers.  
The others are now starting to gather around the unconscious soldier, after having recognised his uniform as American. Steve calls the company back though, to not make an easy target, tells them to spread out wider than a single circle around one single body.  
“What the hell happened to him?”  
Gabe holds up water to his mouth, and they get him to open his eyes, after something cold hits his face. He coughs a few times, spits blood and then curls his upper body towards the ground, his arms shaking from exhaustion and maybe fear.  
“You’re safe with us,” Steve says. Good old Steve, always taking care of everyone.  
“What’s your name, Private?”  
“Bennett. Elliot Bennett.”  
“Alright, you’re with us now, Bennett. I’m Captain Steve Rogers. Where you from?”  
“506th Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division,” he answers, his voice weak and like sand paper.  
“Christ, you really _are_ Airborne.” Bucky curses. The Airborne guys got his respect. Jumping out of a C-47 on D-Day with bombs dropping left and right is quite honestly the worst fucking thing Bucky can imagine a person to go through.  
Just after having given Steve his answer, Bennett’s eyes flutter and somebody then calls for a medic, so he doesn’t black out again.

A short time later, Bennett is supported by both Steve and Falsworth after they got him to stand and then finally walk. In terms of their initial travel route, they lost a lot of time getting him to move, and they now need to quickly find a place to take shelter for the night. Bucky trails behind to keep watch, the company spreading out further as they continue walking. Just as he starts to leave from the spot Bennett was picked up from, he spots a white piece of something in the dirt. It looks like a napkin. He walks up to it, picks it up. It’s a letter, all crumbled up into a ball.  
“Dearest Elliot,” it’s a personal letter, the writing artful and curved. Probably a dame, Bucky thinks and skims to the end to see whether he was right, to just get a bit of fucked-up satisfaction from having enough knowledge to analyse basic letter formalities.  
Upon reaching the end, his blood runs cold though and he stops walking, immediately apologetic for the man they just found face down and bruised in the dirt.  
“In love, Finley.”

“You’re a queer,” Bucky says the next time he gets to talk to him, after Bennett got patched up. Everyone is in their hole to rest, except for Bucky, who’s all stirred up, and for Bennett, who’s probably too fearful to sleep. He freezes at Bucky’s words, looks up at him like a deer in the headlights. Nobody is even close enough to where they are to eavesdrop, but Bucky makes sure that nobody will be able to overhear by dropping down into Bennett’s hole to sit next to him.  
Bennett is about Bucky’s height, certainly not small, but he suddenly looks like a child after Bucky confronted him so bluntly.  
“I found your letter. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. That why they left you to die?”  
“Yes,” Bennett says and reaches for the letter Bucky is handing back to him. His fingers are delicate, and he takes the paper like it’s sacred.  
“Are you playing to trick me? Because if you’ll tell your company that I’m gay, once I’m finally not half-starving anymore, no thanks. I’d rather you tell them now then, so I don’t have to get my hopes up to actually live through the next day.”  
“I’m not tricking you. We’re the same.” They look at each other. Bennett has brown eyes, long lashes. He really does look like a deer. In contrast to Steve, his eyes are not blue as the ocean, but beautiful still, in a different way.  
“You are? Gay?” Bennett asks, cautiously.  
“I don’t think I’m gay. To be honest I don’t really know. I like dames, too.” Insecure, Bucky picks at the lace of his boot.  
“You’re lucky, then. You can just find yourself a girl and be done with it.” Bennett sounds almost grouchy, like Bucky has something to be jealous of. Like he’s somehow better off than Bennett, although he really isn’t, and Bucky feels anger boil hot in his stomach at that, since Bennett considers himself in a position to know what Bucky’s life is like without even knowing him.  
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Believe me, I tried. I had many dames. It didn’t work. I tried praying. Didn’t work either. I keep coming back to him.”  
Bennett’s eyes soften at that, like he now understands.  
“I tried praying, too. I hoped God would have mercy on us. It never went away, so I came to the conclusion that after all, why would he make us this way if not for a reason. Does he write you letters, too? Finley writes a lot. I had to burn some of them, because they were just too many to collect them out here. My squad, they found one and well, the rest is history. Often, I wish I could write to him in the same flowery language he writes to me, but since they check all the letters from the front for content now we can’t risk that. My writing always sounds so cold in comparison …”  
“Mine doesn’t write,” Bucky say and smiles, warmly. “He used to, though.” Bennett’s face falls at that.  
“Oh no … I’m so sorry for your loss.”  
“Ah, he’s not dead. He’s out here with me, now.”  
“He is? Do the others know?”  
“No. _He_ doesn’t even know.”  
“I’m sorry. That must be hard. What me and Finley have, has been mutual for many years. It’s terribly hard, but so worth it. I would die for him.”  
“I understand. I would, too.”  
“Which one of them is it? Is he in this company?”  
“I’d rather keep that to myself, if you don’t mind.”  
“Sure.” Bennett looks at him with understanding. He has a very kind face, trusting and open when he’s smiling.  
“Call me Elliot. You seem like the finest guy I’ve met out here, and we’ve only talked for like five minutes.”  
“I’m Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes ‘s the long form, but Bucky is fine.”  
There’s a silence and Elliot looks up at the night sky. Bucky doesn’t, he can’t bear to look at the stars anymore.  
“I’ve never met another queer before. I thought … well. I don’t know what I thought,” Bucky says and Elliot looks back at him.  
“You thought I would be like they say? Over the top, sick, not normal. It’s not like that. We aren’t what they say we are.”  
“I suppose not.” He doesn’t truly believe himself when he says that, though. He knows he’s cursed.  
“Also, I think you mean you never met another _open_ queer before. There’s plenty of us hiding on this earth. You’d be surprised, Bucky.”

“You on first name basis with him, already?” Steve asks him the next day, after he hears Bucky shouting Elliot’s name to call him over for lunch. There’s something bitter about Steve’s tone and it angers him. Steve doesn’t own Bucky. He doesn’t rule over who gets to call Bucky by his nickname, although Bucky assumes that at this point Steve gets to rule over everything else in this company.  
“Why, you bothered by it, Stevie?” Bucky shoots back, even though mocking Steve leaves a bitter and burning taste in his mouth.  
“No.”  
They don’t talk for a whole day, after that.

 

•••  
**The Stars Riot**

 _“Bravery is being the only one who knows you're afraid.”_  
_\- Colonel David Hackworth_

Bucky has always had steady hands. Steve had always been fidgety and nervous. Even now, that the serum has cured all his small - or partly rather severe - illnesses he used to have, he still fidgets. Not often, but sometimes when he’s having a quiet moment, when he’s alone in his own head, Bucky catches him doing it. They all have weird routines by now, it’s how they deal with the war, so nobody comments on anyone’s abnormal behaviour.  
If Bucky is being honest with himself, he would smoke a lot more, but they don’t have a particular big number of cigarettes out here, really. Dugan prays a lot, takes out his rosary when he thinks no one is looking and Gabe paces around the area when they stop for a break, restlessly. They all do that, but he does it a lot, like he’s paranoid. At this rate, he probably is. Falsworth opens and closes his clasp knife about a hundred times a day.  
But Steve picks at the skin around his nails, never quite ripping it off, just picking at it like he wants to rip it off but is too scared of making a bleeding mess. Besides that, he also wrings his fingers like he used to when his mum would scold him for having taken an apple without paying.

Bucky sits down next to him now, on a big tree trunk. Steve is on watch, but Bucky decided to stay awake with him, to get time alone with his friend. Elliott is off sleeping too, so Bucky feels fine leaving him to that without having to worry about him.  
Looking down at Steve’s hands now, Bucky realises he doesn’t just fidget: his hands are shaking. It almost breaks his heart.  
“Your hands are shaking. They didn’t used to shake, before,” he tries carefully, to not sound like he’s judging him for it, because he would never judge Steve for something so _human_. It almost feels good to see his hands shaking, in a twisted sense, if just to know that Steve is not a _super soldier_ after all, but still the same he always has been. It’s weird, that he’s grasping at straws so much and every single reminder of Steve still being Steve makes his heart jump.  
“Yeah, they … I don’t actually know when it started. But sometimes they start shaking. Do you ever think about how we’re essentially killing people that are no different than us? They might have answered the call of their country the same way you did, Buck. Many of them don’t actually support Hitler. I know with HYDRA it’s different, but those German soldiers. They’re like us.”  
“I try not to think about that, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to shoot a single bullet straight,” Bucky mumbles. It’s hard to admit, that you realise what you’re doing is immoral, but that you don’t have a choice. He doesn’t tell Steve that he has already given up on getting back home.  
_As long as you think there’s still hope you can’t fight. Once you accept that you’re already dead, you’ll be able to function, the way a soldier is supposed to. No compassion, mercy or remorse._ He remembers a Sergeant having told him these words once he got to the front freshly out of basic. If he repeats them often enough, it keeps him going.  
“Do you think I’m weak, because I can’t deal with it? Do you think I’m less of a man, because of it?” Steve. Always that weird image he had, of having to compensate all his weaknesses and his small figure with being brave to count as a man. Probably why he never backed down from a fight with someone twice his size, too. Bucky think it’s the most stupid thing in the world.  
“You’re not weak. For what it’s worth, I think you’re the bravest man out there. I think one of the truest weaknesses is being ignorant. It takes bravery to look an issue straight in the eye and to see that it’s something to pay attention to, something you can’t accept, despite what your head or society tells you. You’re weak, if you ignore what is important and what is wrong. The only severe weakness there is, is ignorance of immorality. You’ve never been ignorant, Steve, and you’re not weak. Being scared of the war isn’t being weak. You realised that what we’re doing is simply insane. A lot of these soldier out here are ignoring this. They aren’t brave enough to face the reality of the crimes they are committing. I’m weak in that way, too.”  
Steve considers those words, focused, like he’s trying to find an answer to something by looking deep into Bucky’s soul. Maybe he hadn’t expected Bucky to have such thoughts about the world.  
A while passes, with his best friend just looking at him and Bucky can’t escape his gaze. His eyes are mesmerising, even in the darkness. Infinite.  
“Would you have joined the Army, if you had had the knowledge back then? That this is something you don’t want to do, after all?” Steve asks him.  
Bucky looks down on his feet. His shoes are worn and dirty, a sign of how long he’s been out here.  
“I thought I would be worth more if I joined. That I would be more of a man. I was wrong. I’m less of a man, than I ever was, now. Still though, I would have joined, even with all the knowledge I have now. You know I would always follow you everywhere. Even into death.” It’s a childish confession and Bucky tries to make it sound less weighty than it is, laughs at his own last statement bitterly, despite it not being funny.  
Something on Steve’s face changes at his dark laugh, so he gives him a genuine smile as a response, to express that he truly means his words. He’s not unhappy, not really, although his own feelings overwhelm him. There’s something that outweighs rationality when you love a person in the way he loves Steve. After all, his entire existence is focused around him and he hopes Steve knows. But knowing that you would give your life for someone is frightening.  
As soon as Bucky smiles, Steve sends him a smile back. It’s full of fondness and Bucky’s whole body fills up with warmth. For just a second, before he can shove it back down, he wishes he could kiss him.  
“C’mere,” Steve whispers and puts his hand to the nape of Bucky’s neck, tugging him towards himself softly. At the touch, Bucky’s body gives in on his own and he slumps into Steve like a fainting man, his arms coming around Steve’s upper body to get them both into position for a proper hug.  
“I’m so glad you’re here with me, Buck. I couldn’t imagine a world where you’re not by my side.” Stunned by such heavy words, Bucky hugs him tighter.  
“Are you ever scared, Steve?” It feels safe to ask the question like this, spoken softly into Steve’s shoulder, while Bucky’s own face is hidden from Steve’s gaze.  
“All the time,” Steve says.

 

•••  
**The Stars Smile**

 _“If you can love someone with your whole heart, even one person, then there's salvation in life. Even if you can't get together with that person.”_  
_― Haruki Murakami, 1Q84_

It’s bitterly cold and the Howling Commandos have dug a large slit trench to keep warm. Its bigger than the ones they would usually do, so they can all stretch out their legs for once. Inside, they have gathered together, because at this point the late fall night might kill them if they didn’t. They are lined in a row, so body warmth is shared. The ones in the middle, lined by two others, are lucky. The ones on the outer sides not so much, although the walls of the trench still give some protection from the cold.  
Dugan told them he’d be fine to take the outer position, and, unsurprisingly, Steve took the other side.  
Falsworth is deeply asleep spread out over Gabe, who seemed very stiff at first, because of the close body contact, but who is now also sleeping. He took warmth over pride. A smart decision and, to be quite honest, pride isn’t an option or a priority in war. The amount of times Bucky has seen soldiers do things that are normally far too private for anyone to see is uncountable.  
Dugan himself has his back to Gabe, but Bucky figures he still absorbs his warmth even though he’s not quite touching him.  
Besides Falsworth lies Morita, lined up next to him neatly on his back; they’re touching at the shoulders.  
Dernier is keeping watch, from a small watchtower they have found, so the rest of their unit can sleep in peace.  
Next to Morita is Elliot. He’s facing Bucky, his arm under his head for support. Bucky is trying to sleep on his back, but under Elliot’s heavy watchful gaze Bucky feels his hair stand on edge even with his eyes closed. So, he rolls over to look at Steve, and immediately he feels the gaze lose intensity.  
He’s not quite asleep, Bucky can see. His posture is stiff, although out here, probably because Steve’s whole physique has changed, Bucky has never seen him anything but, even when he sleeps. It makes him feel sorry for Steve because he looks like he can never catch a break these days.  
“Steve?” Bucky whispers, really quietly to not wake the others, as they’re all bone-tired and need the rest. Steve immediately opens his eyes. They shine in the moonlight, huge, open and trusting.  
“You okay, man?”  
“Jus’ have some trouble sleepin’ these days,” Steve mumbles and it sounds tired as hell and a bit like he’s fed up with himself for it, too.  
It’s the middle of the night and sometimes those late hours do weird things to you and Bucky really wants to touch Steve in comfort, at least his arm, because he feels sorry for him. After about three seconds he decides he can be selfish just this once. Steve can move away if he doesn’t want the closeness. His arm is huge now, not at all as small as he used to be. Before, his entire upper arm would fit into Bucky’s grip easily. It doesn’t make a difference to Bucky though, he’s still the same Steve to him.  
As soon as Bucky touches his arm Steve closes his eyes, like he was waiting for some consolation and his eyelashes cast small shadows in the dim light when he does so. It seems, he too, is being selfish tonight. Bucky thinks he’s so beautiful right here in this moment. Always beautiful, really.  
Steve drops his head, like people would drop their head in weariness when they’re sitting, but they aren’t sitting, so instead it looks like he’s curling up on himself. And he is, Bucky realises. He raises his hand from Steve’s arm so he can move into the position he wants to move into, properly. At that Steve’s body curls up more, his legs bent slightly and his whole upper body suddenly shifts closely up to Bucky, his forehead close to Bucky’s chest, but not quite touching, like he’s afraid. His hands are curled up over his heart, in a position that looks like somebody protecting themselves from a gunshot. Bucky can’t see his face and he thinks it’s on purpose, just like when Bucky asked him whether Steve is scared and he hid his face in Steve’s shoulder while asking.  
As a reaction, Bucky’s own heart is beating quickly on its own accord now, and he hopes if he moves towards him Steve won’t be able to feel it, but he’s far too caught up in his pull now. Always Steve’s intense pull, like the sun, so he _wants_ to move. _Wants_ him to feel his heartbeat, even.  
Slowly and cautiously, he lowers his hand again and puts it on Steve’s left shoulder blade. To reach him comfortably he has to press up closer to him, he tells himself that, and then Steve’s forehead is touching his chest and Steve’s left hand comes up to clutch at the thick clothing he’s wearing and he pulls even more forward. Bucky’s heart almost stops, they are that close now, touching from head to toe, their legs tangled. It’s not sexual, wouldn’t be what Steve would want anyway, just very intimate. And also, conveniently, warm. The strong wind still brushes over their aligned bodies, but Bucky feels a lot warmer than before and also, safe.  
He hears Steve’s soft breathing - a little fast for somebody who’s about to fall asleep, but Bucky is sure at this point it’s really just wishful thinking on his side - and feels the rise and fall of his strong body under his hand.  
They stay like this, and luckily Bucky calms his heartbeat down a little, after a while. He thinks Steve might even have fallen asleep, because his breathing is then deep and even, his hand on Bucky’s clothing loose. He wishes they could do this more often. None of the others would care, either way. It’s not like it’s illegal to cuddle another man, actually it’s fairly common between the soldiers as an expression of camaraderie, but of course not in a romantic sense.  
In his sleep, Steve shifts. He then nuzzles his face up against Bucky’s neck and his exhales graze his skin. As if it’s a natural instinct, Bucky cards his fingers through the short hair at the back of Steve’s head. Steve breathes out at that, all tension leaving his body in Bucky’s arms and he stores the moment safely in his mind while resting his chin protectively on top of Steve’s head.  
Throwing him out of his haze, there’s a rustling besides Bucky and he almost jumps out of his skin in fear of being discovered by one of the more abrasive of their company, until he sees Elliot’s face. He has sat up and is now looking down on him and on Steve in his arms.  
Bucky shifts his head a little, to be able to look at Elliot. His figure is illuminated by the moon and stars and he says nothing, just smiles softly. In this lighting he looks almost like a mythological figure, about to give his blessing to the two men in each other’s arms.  
Bucky wishes for nothing more than that.  
He curses his heart, and the world.

 

•••  
**The Stars Freeze**

 _“It is forbidden to kill; therefore all murderers are punished unless they kill in large numbers and to the sound of trumpets.”_  
_― Voltaire_

Luckily, they see them before they are being found themselves.  
They’re all used to this by now and so each soldier takes up their position behind a small hill, while Steve scans their surroundings and the small camp the German have set up.  
It seems the enemy has just taken a break and is now about to leave the camp again, starting to get their belongings and carrying around guns and clothing.  
Somebody is tying his shoe while having a smoke and Bucky shifts his gaze away from him to a different man who actually looks threatening, with a gun in his hand. That man looks about ready to kill him if Bucky forces his thoughts in the right direction.  
_They all want to kill me, they want to kill him, they want to kill us_ , he repeats in his head multiple times. He has to survive, so he has to take them down first. Simple, right?  
Focused, he steadies his hand while Steve gives a sign to get ready, breathes in and out for a short moment. It’s the moment before everything will go to hell in seconds and Bucky feels as if in a trance, tense with adrenaline but weirdly calm with the familiar rush of brutality about to unfold.  
Steve gives the sign, Bucky shoots, as well as about 50 other soldiers of their company. His first shot goes straight in the head of an angry looking German with a huge gun pointed at them. Pointed at them by accident, that is, as the Germans only now after the start of their attack realise that they’re being attacked.  
Time passes weirdly, he doesn’t know whether it’s been twenty minutes or one, but Bucky is focused on hitting the head, therefore taking longer with his shots.  
Somebody is shouting over the riot of the guns going off, Bucky isn’t sure who it is and the noise is so loud that he squints his eyes to see better as a result, which is ridiculous but kind of a weird reflex. A body bumps into him hard, but he can’t turn over to see who it was, he’s still shooting with precision to take out as many enemy soldiers as possible. Enemy soldiers. Enemy. _Enemy, enemy, enemy._  
Steve is still giving commandos from somewhere and Bucky can see his silhouette to his right, so he stays put and shoots.  
A grenade hits in front of them and Bucky instinctively ducks, dust flying up and his ears ringing but there’s no time for recovery so he keeps shooting.  
Another grenade, somebody is moving frantically next to his other side now, like a nervous animal caught in a trap and so he moves his gaze and lower his gun as Dugan takes over next to Bucky to take out more soldiers in his place.  
A shout straight in his left ear makes him see black for a second but it deflates as soon as the loud shooting takes out the pain with more constant noise.  
“-ove asshole, you gotta fucking move! Get the fuck up! Move, move!” It’s Falsworth, he realises, who’s so fidgety next to him and trying to get somebody up from the goddamn ground. And dammit. It’s Elliot.  
“He hurt?” Bucky shouts on top of his lungs, panicked and scrambles over to them with his gun in hand.  
“Hell no he fucking ain’t, just won’t get up from the fucking ground.” Falsworth grabs his own gun and he is off shooting again, trying to make up for the lost time by firing off all his bullets in one angry run.  
Snapping out of standing frozen in place, Bucky grabs Elliot’s arm and tries to yank him out of the dirt, Elliot’s arms covering his face protectively while he’s lying face-down on the ground, in a similar position to how they found him after his squad had left him behind.  
“Get the fuck going Private, we got work here!” Bucky shouts and Elliot whips his head around to give him one of the deadliest stares Bucky has ever seen anyone give him - and he has seen Kraut look him dead in the eye with pure hatred and the intention to kill while standing up close to them a few feet away.  
“Get the fuck away from me!” Elliot simply shouts in return. His face is tear streamed and his voice ripping real ugly and horribly while he’s speaking. Bucky almost backs away but Elliot’s life is on the line, if he doesn’t move out of the danger zone he’s as good as dead lying on the ground like this.  
“Get up, get fucking up!” He grabs Elliot forcefully and pulls him far behind the line of the shooting soldiers, where the bullets can’t hit him. Immediately afterwards, Bucky gets up again to reach a position where he can see the enemy and starts shooting once more. Behind him he can hear Elliot screaming horribly wrecked, but nobody really cares or worries about it, as it only adds to the noise.

“Everyone alright?” Dugan asks and they count through their squad members to make sure they all made it. Gabe is hurt and Morita gets down to look at his hand which got grazed by a bullet while he was shooting.  
Bucky slumps forwards tiredly, his face in his hand while he catches his breath. He can’t believe they took out a group of human beings, again. He hates himself for it and he’s sure with both him being a queer and him being a killing machine this is the point of no return.  
“Buck?”  
“I’m fine,” he says, automatically, quickly, as Steve gets down next to him and comfortingly puts his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. He almost wants to shrug it off but the crass contrast of violence versus attentiveness and loving care make his head so dizzy that he can’t even see straight. His senses are heightened, still.  
“Well done,” Steve says and Bucky almost laughs.  
“You too.”  
It’s their ritual, even though they both know it’s a lie that they _did well_.  
“Let’s get going, alright?” Steve says softly, like he doesn’t want to spook him and Bucky looks up to face him angrily, but as soon as he sees Steve’s face he realises he can’t be angry at him. He’s done with being angry, anyway.  
“Alright. ‘M sorry, Steve.” Steve will know what he means. It’s more of a general sorry, than saying sorry for a specific reason.  
Steve smiles, his face full of dirt but unharmed.  
“It’s okay. You’re okay, Buck. We’re okay.” He always knows what Bucky needs.  
Leaving him to himself, Steve then goes off to help the others up, for them to gather somewhere safely to rest. Bucky looks around for Elliot, who’s laying on his back looking up at the sky, a distorted grin on his face as soon as Bucky walks up to him. The others give them some space and Bucky is sure it’s because they think Bucky will get him up and walking again. He supposes it’s his job, now, as he’s closer to Elliot than the rest.  
“Hah. You know what, James Buchanan?” Bucky shudders at the tone of his voice and the fact that he uses Bucky’s full name to address him, instead of his nickname. His voice is cold like ice and his eyelashes shine ironically, like he doesn’t even know that he’s still crying, or doesn’t care. A few seconds of silence, while Bucky gets down on his right knee to look him in the face more privately, rather than to speak down on him while standing.  
“They didn’t leave me behind for being weak. For being a soldier who can’t fight. And shit I can’t fight, can I. I’m terrified. I mean, you saw just now that I can’t. I can’t do this shit at all.  
But no, that wasn’t their reason, they kicked me out for being a queer. Can you imagine? They thought being a queer is worse than being a danger to their entire company by not being able to shoot. They thought being gay is worse than putting them all into the danger of dying.” He laughs, and dread fills Bucky’s whole body, as he realises that Elliot is right.  
“This world is fucked, Bucky. We’re all fucked.”

 

•••  
**The Stars Fall Silent**

 _“When he shall die,_  
_Take him and cut him out in little stars,_  
_And he will make the face of heaven so fine_  
_That all the world will be in love with night_  
_And pay no worship to the garish sun.”_  
_― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet_

He already knew. When Elliot told him, he was surprised, but only because he had never heard the words out loud, from somebody else than his own head making him spiral down dark places. _This world is fucked. We’re all fucked._  
When they’re being attacked the next time, it’s messier. They make it out, but many are hurt and the few medics they have are running around all over the place to give aid with their admittedly unsatisfactory medical supplies, just another sick component of their insane situation at the front.  
Luckily, Steve isn’t hurt, and Bucky gives a silent _thank you_ to God, or whatever is responsible for their fate.  
Elliot though, is slightly hurt. His leg was shot and when the medic takes out the bullet he screams so loud that once again Bucky is reminded of an animal caught in a trap.

It’s a war zone. They are in the middle of war.  
No area is completely safe, but they find a place where they can rest without being endangered, for a while.  
For a while, only.  
The attack comes out of nowhere and they’re all on their feet within seconds, but Elliot can’t move as fast as the rest, can’t duck quickly or hide behind trees because of his leg.  
When Bucky takes out the last soldier in the area he can see from where he’s standing, he hears multiple final bullets go off, sees another sniper in the trees and takes him out, clean in the head. He knows who the sniper hit before he even turns around. It’s dead silent.  
Then, Elliot coughs. The bullets hit his chest and Morita appears out of nowhere to get down on him. Bucky realises he hasn’t been moving, just stood there watching in horrible shock.  
“Medic! Medic! We-we need to get him to the Aid Station! Bucky, go find a medic! Medic!”  
Bucky runs off then, his heart in his throat. He bumps into people, can’t seem to find his voice although he knows he’s technically searching for a medic and needs to shout for one.  
“Buck!” Steve.  
“What’s wrong? Are you alright?”  
“We- we need.” Bucky eyes search Steve’s, while he’s trying to find his voice. “We need a medic. Elliot-”  
Realisation hits Steve and he start shouting on top of his lungs, with the might of a company’s Captain.  
“We need a medic here!”

The medic falls to his knees, his legs hitting the ground hard. He starts ripping Elliot’s clothing apart, searches his chest and tries to get the bullets out with his bare hands, the way they always have to out here. Elliot is screaming again, and another medic drugs him up with Morphine to stop him from moving around so much and as a result lose more blood. Not giving up yet, the other medic - Sanford is his name - pours sulfa powder all over Elliot’s chest. He too is seemingly becoming desperate now too though, doesn’t even bother trying to find the bullets and just presses a bandage to the wounds. The blood bleeds through within seconds and doesn’t stop. They all know, then.  
Bucky is surprised, because the sulfa powder kind of looks like snow. A white blanket covering his friend almost peacefully. The red from his body bleeds the innocent white cover on his body in a stark contrast.  
“Bucky?” Elliot’s long lashes are wet from his own tears, his voice is weak, unstable but drugged and thus sounding a bit like wrapped in cotton. Bucky hears him trying to hold it together for all their sake and he almost starts ripping his own skin off at that, at the fact that Elliot is dying but still cares so much that he doesn’t want to cause them pain.  
“Will you tell him that I love him? If you ever see him? Please tell him.” Bucky kneels down, the others do too, although they don’t say a word or get as close to him as Bucky does. The Howling Commandos have all gathered, Steve probably ordered them here, but Bucky hadn’t even realised that Steve had left so he isn’t sure.  
Elliot takes Bucky’s hand into both of his, like he’s about to pass over the wisdom of his soul. Bucky thinks even the others can feel it, this time. How celestial Elliot is.  
“Tell him that I love him. That he was the only person on my mind, every day when I woke up, every day when I went to sleep out here. The last person on my mind, when I died. Please tell him that. Promise me.”  
“I promise,” Bucky sobs and it’s embarrassing but his heart hurts so much. Steve is by his side, takes his other hand then.  
“Also,” Elliot coughs again, bloody, and whimpers at the pain, so Bucky squeezes his hand.  
“One day. One day you share your beauty. For me. Okay? I want you to let him know who you really are. Doesn’t matter when. But you have to, before you die. You owe me. You owe all of use. We don’t deserve this. He deserves to know.” He then takes a shuddering breath and looks up at the sky, his eyes seemingly focusing on the clouds in a desperate attempt to go with a good thought. He smiles. He closes his eyes. He stops breathing, and he doesn’t breathe ever again, after that.  
Bucky breaks down. Steve is there.

 

•••  
**The Stars Let Go**

 _“When you really want love you will_  
_find it waiting for you.”_  
_― Oscar Wilde, De Profundis_

They walk onwards to find rest again. They make a fire. Some people start polishing their boots, an odd routine but Bucky assumes they want at least some of the blood off their clothing.  
During the last hour Bucky has already had 5 cigarettes, way more than he’s allowed because they don’t have that many, but a few men gave him their share willingly, without a word of protest.  
For some time, he sits down somewhere away from the others in the dark, only comes to join them when his terrible cold hands become unbearable. Like the men polishing their boots he wants to wash them as if there’s blood on them, except there isn’t.  
The Howling Commandos don’t say anything while they eat their bleak dinner of spam, until Gabe breaks the silence.  
“Who did he mean? Who did he want you to tell him that he loves him?” If it was anyone else asking, Bucky would be furious, but he knows Gabe is a caring guy. He’s empathetic and he cares about people. He doesn’t ask out of hatred, just curiosity.  
Abruptly, Bucky feels Steve’s eyes on him and he wonders whether Steve knows.  
“His lover. Finley. They were in love.”  
“You mean they were queers?” Falsworth.  
“It’s why his company left him to die.” Bucky says, keeping his voice level.  
“Oh what? I don’t think he deserve _to die_ for that.” To Bucky’s surprise Falsworth sounds disgusted at such a notion and it makes something inside of him start to glow warmly. It’s pathetic, he thinks, how he immediately springs to attention at the slightest words that aren’t full of hatred towards queers.  
“The guy was odd and maybe his damn lashes were too long for a man’s and his face looked too pretty for a man’s too, more like a dame’s really, but he didn’t deserve to die for that. He couldn’t shoot and instead they wanted him dead for being a queer? They should get their damn priorities fixed. Damn Airborne, those jumps messed up their heads. We’re in war for God’s sake, there’s more important things going on.”  
It’s a dangerous topic and Bucky won’t give himself away, but to be honest with himself he doesn’t expects to make it through this war. Therefore, he wants to have this conversation, just wants to know what all these men think about queers. What they think about him. He wants to know, with Elliot’s death and his last words looming over him like a ghost he’s sure will haunt him until he dies.  
“You knew he was a queer, then?” Dernier asks and looks at him confused.  
“I did.”  
“You didn’t care?”  
“Why would I have cared. He was nice and that’s enough for me, his private life ain’t none of my business.”  
“It’s not normal, Barnes. He wasn’t normal, even if he was nice.” Dugan. He’s very religious, Bucky know, but that’s not an excuse. Morita and Gabe both don’t say a word and Bucky realises it’s because they too must know what it’s like to be treated with pure disgust in a society they just want to belong to like everyone else.  
“What the fuck even is normal. We’re shooting other human beings, killing them. Tell me about fucking normal. You have no right to talk.” Bucky gets up, having heard enough. After all, he can’t carry the conversation and he’s disappointed with them and with himself for it, so he walks off.  
“I got first watch,” he tells them over his shoulder.

They all went to sleep, all except Steve, so he isn’t surprised when his best friend joins him on his watch. Bucky is crying again, but he wipes his tears away, tries to gather some strength and holds the tears in; sniffles a few times.  
“Hey.” Steve’s eyes are apologetic, like he feels sorry for having gone after him despite Bucky wanting to be alone. What Steve doesn’t know is that Bucky never really wants to be alone. He’s terrified of being alone.  
“You alright?”  
“Somebody I cared about got killed right in front of me. Yes, I’m grand.”  
“Buck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … I’m sorry.”  
Bucky sighs, then says: “I know, I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just unwell, is all. We got real close while he was here. He didn’t deserve to die.”  
“I know,” Steve says, “I wished he’d made it home.” The way he words it is a bit cryptic, underlying what would await Elliot at home, so Bucky dares to ask.  
“Do you have a problem with him being- having been … gay?”  
Steve looks out at the stars, their shoulders touching. It’s windy again and Bucky shudders, so Steve touches his thigh with his own, although he doesn’t seem to realise he’s doing it, continuing to look straight ahead. It’s really dark here where they’re sitting, so Bucky is glad that even if somebody was awake, nobody would be able to catch their private little moment as they’re surrounded by trees and sitting in a slit trench.  
“It scares me, to be honest. But I don’t have a problem with it. It’s just scary.” Again, Bucky thinks he’s being cryptic. What does he mean it _scares him_?  
“Hey Buck … can I ask you something?”  
“You can ask me anything, Stevie.” The nickname isn’t him pulling Steve’s leg this time because Bucky thinks he sounds worried about something, so he tries to sound sincere in return.  
“Do you think one can love two people at the same time?” It takes Bucky by surprise and he doesn’t know what to answer. He thinks about it and looks at the side of Steve’s face in the moonlight.  
“I don’t know. Never happened to me.”  
“Do you think … people who also like dames can be gay? Can you like dames and men? Do you think that’s possible?”  
Maybe it’s too fast of an answer, as he gives it right back, but he says: “Yes,” and Steve’s eyes widen as he lets his gaze drifts back to Bucky’s face.  
“How do you know?”  
“I just know.” Bucky’s heart skips a beat. He’s frightened and doesn’t want to let Steve know. At the same time, he wants nothing more than to let him know. To honour Elliot. To end his own misery. To tell the person he loves, that he loves him. He’s hurting so much, because somebody he really cared about just died, and the person he loves is in danger every single day, and he himself might die soon and they’re killing innocent people left and right. It’s all too much. The world is upside down and it’s making him hyperaware, hyper focused to everything going on around him. He’s numb but also torn open. It’s ripping him apart.  
“You know I was always the weird one, Stevie. I always was.”  
Steve looks at him like he doesn’t understand. Annoyed, because he thinks Bucky is distracting from a topic that was obviously very important for Steve to talk about. _How do you know?_ Well.  
Bucky looks away. The stars are shining when he finally looks up at them again after many days and the seconds tick by. Out of nowhere, he sees a shooting star and it makes something inside of him spring to life, like he’s on fire.  
“I fell in love with somebody. We knew each other for a very long time, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words out loud and tell him. It’s a dangerous love, people might even say it’s not normal. Isn’t that funny? Something so weird happening to me. I was always the weird one out, never got myself a dame, no matter how many times I tried. You probably thought I was crazy, so often did I try. Suppose I was. I was genuinely trying, not just sleeping around and yet …”  
With his finger, he traces patterns into the dirt, restless, nervous of what will follow.  
“Probably because he never left me alone that I couldn’t let go. He followed me everywhere, throughout our entire childhood, even into war, can you believe? The dump idiot always thought he could save the world. He probably thought he could save me, but I fell in love with him. I’m a sinner. There’s no saving me.”  
He squeezes his eyes shut. Afraid.  
“I’m sorry, Stevie. I never wanted to tell you. I always liked dames, and I thought I could find myself a good one. To a degree it was enough for a few hours when I met up with one of them, but afterwards, sometimes even during the whole ordeal I could only think of you. Got even worse out here, cause you know … no distractions in the war.  
If you’re disgusted I understand. But I don’t expect to survive this. You can. You got that serum to save you, but I don’t. I’m just a fuck-up and don’t have anything to hold me here. I can’t save the world. I’m sorry. Please bear this burden with me, just the knowledge. I can’t carry it on my own anymore. I’m so sorry.”  
Nothing happens, not a single sound from Steve and as he’s too scared to look at him, Bucky starts crying. Again. He wishes he wouldn’t have to cry in front of his friend, but there’s no way he can make himself any more vulnerable anyway and he’s so damn tired of pretending. Things have just gone to shit, either way.  
Steve suddenly starts talking, his voice stable at first, but then it breaks real quick.  
“I feel in love with two people. One of them, I knew for a long time. I didn’t understand what was going on until far too late, and I think he had already been in love with me way longer. It seems, I hurt him a lot. I’m sorry for that, and that I didn’t tell him sooner. I didn’t know he felt the same.”  
Unable to conceal his shaky voice, Steve balls up his hands in an anxious attempt to stay grounded.  
“I followed him everywhere, because he followed me everywhere. He offered me his life and went hungry many times to save me from dying when I was sick. When we got older he was away much and then he was off to war. It broke me.”  
There’s a short pause, he tries to collect himself, then continues.  
“I met her after I hadn’t seen him in a long time. She was strong and different, and I felt the same way about her, too. In a different way. Maybe it was initially to fill the hole he had left.  
Then, he came back to me. Or I came back to him. I don’t know. I don’t think it matters.  
Now, I’m left here loving them both, but people say one love is real and one isn’t. It’s untrue. I love them both. Still, I’ve loved him for much longer, and it’s such a powerful love that it scares me.”  
“It scares you,” Bucky can only repeat and even to his own ears his voice sounds like shattered glass.  
They look at each other and Steve is crying now too and he’s stopped talking. Bucky knows Steve hates people hearing his choked-up voice when he’s crying. Stupid idiot. It’s not like they got anything more to lose now.  
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Bucky says and grabs Steve’s collar, hangs his head low. He’s sorry for so much. For his love. For Steve’s love. For Steve’s love for two people, at the same time. For not having realised earlier, when he was still the only love of Steve’s life, that he wasn’t the only one in love.  
Steve’s grabs the back of his neck and Bucky makes a broken noise.  
“Buck. Please. Just once. Just one.” And it’s Steve pleading. Bucky is breaking in half.  
“Okay. Just once,” he says. He won’t pull Steve into hell with him, but just one kiss will be fine, right?  
He raises his head, looks at Steve’s eyes. Full of tears, his cheeks strained with them. His strong noses, his beautiful lips. He’s so beautiful.  
Nose to nose and at first, they’re barely touching. Just carefully holding their lips close, while Steve moves his fingers through Bucky’s hair like he’s afraid he’ll disappear. Bucky’s hands are shaking where they’re cradling Steve’s face now, and he knows Steve can feel.  
It’s an innocent kiss, they’re both way too terrified and overwhelmed for it to be anything more than that. Still, they get a bit more daring after a few seconds and then Bucky presses close when he can’t hold back anymore while Steve opens his mouth in a seemingly overwhelmed gasp. They stay like that, then they part. Steve slumps down into Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky then hides his own face in Steve’s shoulder, too spend and ashamed to continue.  
There’s no clouds, and the stars are shining brightly that night when they go to sleep after Gabe takes the next watch.  
They’re curled around each other protectively, despite it not being particularly windy tonight. Bucky then knows though, that they have just opened the Pandora’s box. They’re doomed.  
He knows Steve is still awake, so he quietly whispers into his hair.  
“Steve. Listen to me. Agent Carter, you go get her. You make her your dame and you go get happy when this is over. Have children. There’s no happy ending to us. You know I’m right.”  
Steve’s answer is immediate.  
“You don’t know that. Don’t say that again, Buck. Don’t ever say that again. There’s a happy ending for us, I know there is.”  
When Steve says it in such a convincing way, Bucky believes that he might be right, because Steve is bigger than everything else he knows to be true. Bigger than fate or hatred or war.

 

•••  
**The Stars Scream**

 _“No one really knows why they are alive until they know what they'd die for.”_  
_― Martin Luther King Jr._

When Bucky wakes up, Steve is pressed up against him, breathing into the back of his neck. It’s comfortable and actually really sweet, until he realises that they shouldn’t be doing this. Getting up turns out as a challenge because Steve mutters real cute into his skin and clutches onto his chest and once Bucky untangles himself from his grip and gets into a sitting position he feels like he’s just ripped his skin open while doing so. He really hates this feeling of his skin opening up constantly in the recent days, it unsettles him and he think he’s at last going insane now.  
“Buck?” Steve’s voice is so soft and Bucky frantically looks around, to see who else is awake. Morita is on watch, Dugan and Falsworth are pacing around a good distance away from them while talking and the rest is still out cold in their holes.  
“What is it?” Carefully touching Steve’s face, he leans over him a bit to look at his half-asleep face. To be quite honest he feels ready to cry again, with Steve looking at him like that.  
“Nothin’ really,” Steve pauses. “I just wish we were home.”  
“Me too,” Bucky answers and Steve presses his forehead against Bucky’s thigh.

That day, somebody comes to pick them up to fly them to the Alps, to find Zola. Order from high up, it seems. This time nobody told Bucky where they’re headed until shortly before they arrive. They all know he came out of Zola’s lab not long ago. Trusting others’ judgement can sometimes turn out as a blessing and he’s thankful they didn’t tell him earlier, because now that he knows he doesn’t feel all that good. Steve might have already known for a few days. The only good thing here is the snow. It’s really an extraordinary view, kinda reminds him of Elliot dying though.  
“Elliot would have liked this,” Bucky says despite his terrible thoughts and bends down to touch the snow.  
“He liked the snow?” Steve asks, trying to sound conversational, but his voice comes off as strained. If Bucky didn’t know better he might think he sounds a bit jealous.  
“No. I don’t know. He was a sap, I think he would have liked the view, because it’s pretty. Romantic.”  
Steve nudges his shoulder while they’re walking.  
“You think it’s romantic?”  
“Shut up.” Bucky thinks he’s blushing, but Steve also looks a bit red on the cheeks. Might just be the cold.

When he falls the only thing on his mind is that he wishes they would have had more time. More time to explore their shared secret. To explore what it all means, to love a man in a time where society tells you you can’t.  
He knows he has cut Steve’s skin open bare-handed and that he has will leave a broken man behind.  
_Our love was greater than words or actions, darling._  
_We knew despite not knowing,_ he thinks.  
The fall hurts more than the impact.

 

•••  
**The Stars Cry**

 _“Though lovers be lost, love shall not; And death shall have no dominion.”_  
_― Dylan Thomas_

He has forgotten.  
They had to force him to forget.  
With them having taken away his meaning, his eyes open and metal starts moving. Robotically.  
Why does he exist?  
What’s his purpose?


End file.
